


Of Baseball Games and Murder Mystery Dinners

by Eveanyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Straight up fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eveanyn/pseuds/Eveanyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m telling you, man, the butler did it.”</p><p>“Dean, there isn’t a butler.”</p><p>“Then the bartender did it.”</p><p>“He’s not a part of the game.”</p><p>“All right then, Mr. Smarty Pants, who is it?”</p><p>-----</p><p>Or, where Dean buys tickets to a murder mystery dinner, and things go from there</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Baseball Games and Murder Mystery Dinners

**Author's Note:**

  * For [viscouslover (moonunit)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=viscouslover+%28moonunit%29).



> This is a (slightly belated) gift for my lovely, beautiful, wonderful Sach for her birthday. Happy Birthday!

“So, Friday?” Dean asked, popping his head around Castiel’s cubicle.

“What about Friday?” Cas didn’t look up from his computer.

“Dude! I got us tickets to that Murder Mystery Dinner thing you’ve been talking about forever!”

Castiel looked up, surprise written on his face. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Dean, I … I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t mention it, Cas.”

 

o.O.o

 

Dean thought a murder mystery dinner on board a fucking train would have been the worst thing he could possibly imagine. He’d bought the tickets for Cas because … because he was _Cas_ , and no one ever did anything nice for him, and the guy deserved it. Besides, Cas had sat through tons of baseball games with him throughout the whole summer.

He’d bought the tickets to be nice to Castiel, but he hadn’t actually planned on _enjoying_ himself. Yet here he was, sipping on high-quality whiskey and watching the furrow in Cas’ brow as he wrote furiously, actually having fun.

“I’m telling you, man, the butler did it.”

“Dean, there isn’t a butler.”

“Then the bartender did it.”

“He’s not a part of the game.”

“All right then, Mr. Smarty Pants, who is it?”

Castiel paused for a moment, eyes working over his notes. “Mr. North. It’s the only logical answer.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes. His alibi doesn’t quite match up. He was the only one who was close enough to all the victims to make sense, even with the red herring they put in with Ms. Charlene and her jealousy rage. She didn’t have sufficient means to commit the first murder. It’s Mr. North.”

“Well, look at you. Come on, let’s go before anyone else figures it out and collects your prize.”

 

o.O.o

 

“Thank you for this, Dean.” They were driving back to Castiel’s apartment, the grand prize gift certificate for $50 to the local micro brewery on the seat between them. Dean was already planning on when they could go cash it in.

“Hey, no problem. It was a pretty cool gig. I’d do it again sometime if you wanted to.”

He could feel Castiel’s eyes on him, silently studying. He kept his own eyes on the road. “I would like that very much.”

That shouldn’t have made his face heat up, but something in the tone of Castiel’s voice made it seem like a much more intimate statement than it seemed on the surface.

They were silent for the rest of the ride, and soon Dean was pulling up outside of Cas’ apartment. He put the Impala in park but left the engine idling. Castiel was already getting out of the car, so Dean figured the night was over. But no sooner was Cas out of the car than he was leaning over asking, “Are you coming?”

With a strange rush of anticipation, Dean turned off the car and followed Cas to his apartment. Everything was normal; Dean threw his coat on the entrance table and Castiel admonished him for it, Cas went and got a couple of beers out of the fridge, and they sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. Nothing new, no reason for Dean to have freaking _bats_ flying around in his stomach. He’d been feeling like this off and on all night, and he couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t like they were doing anything differently than they had for the past few months. They went and did stuff, hung out at their respective apartments, just normal things.

He was staring absently at the TV, wondering about what was going on in his mind when it hit him. Son of a bitch.

“Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“Are we … are we dating?”

Castiel put his beer on the table and turned to face Dean. “What do you think?”

“I don’t fucking know, man, that’s why I’m asking.”

“Oh.”

Oh? “So, wait. So you thought we already were?”

Cas didn’t meet Dean’s eyes when he nodded. Shit.

“Shit, man. If I’d’ve known... “ He reached out and took Cas’ chin in his hands, made Cas look at him. “I didn’t say I don’t want to, dude. I just wanted to be on the same page.”

Castiel blinked. “What page are we on, then?”

Dean figured the best way to answer was to kiss him. It was slow, sweet, and started out chastely. Then Cas pushed him back against the arm of the couch and slotted himself between Dean’s legs. “Dean,” he murmured between kisses, “I would like to take you to bed, and I would like to stay there all weekend.”

“I think we're on the same page with that.”

 

 


End file.
